I used to think that smoke alarms were our friends, quietly affixed above our heads, watching over us, scanning the air for anything that may cause us harm. What great allies. Buddies almost. Or at least that's what I thought until the one in our bedroom went rogue.
It all started a few nights ago when we were woken by an incessant bipping. 1:12am to be precise. As we regained our senses, and discounted the possibility that we had been invaded by a gang of digital clock radios, we realised that that it was the smoke alarm above our heads. It soon became obvious that staring at it was not going to make it stop. Neither was quietly swearing under our breaths. No, we were going to have to get up and physically tackle it to the ground. Or put a new battery in. If I'm being honest, I was all for the tacking to the ground scenario. After dragging the step ladders from the garage we realised the problem. It was out of reach. Even on the top step of the ladder, on tip toes and with arms outstretched we were not even close.
"Bip!" came the response.
Ok, if we couldn't reach it then maybe we could open the cover with a broom and knock the heart - sorry battery - out of the infernal thing. So back to the garage once more.
"Bip!"
Yes, this would work! The combination of the step ladders, outstretched arm and broom was easily enough reach. Bam! With one thwack the cover easily popped open and exposed the enemies innards.
"Bip?"
It was worried now - it knew we had it on the ropes. Now for the battery. Thwack! Missed. Thwack! Direct hit but the battery didn't budge. Thwack! Another clean shot but no good. The alarm had a firm grip on the battery. This wasn't going to work.
"Bip!"
The smug bastard.
"Bip!"
I began to wonder "Why is it that these things never go off during the day - when you're out at work for example? But oh no, it is always at night when you are in deep slumber and usually before a particularly busy day. But why now? Was it really the battery? Maybe it just wants some attention? Have we been neglecting it?" It was at that point I realised that I was tired and needed to sleep, badly.
"Bip!"
F*ck!
The only thing to do, at least at this ungodly hour, was to make a tactical retreat, grab some earplugs and go and sleep in the spare room.
"Bip!"..........
We awoke the next morning slightly tired from the ordeal but something was missing. What was it? No noise! "Ha!", I exclaimed, "It's tired itself out!. Well that's sorted that out". Relishing the peace and quiet we went about our morning ablutions; a nice shower, breakfast and a cup of tea.
"Bip!"
Oh no!
"Bip!"
Good God.
"Bip!".
It was either my imagination, or a lack of sleep but the bipping seemed to be cheerier than ever. Like it was pleased to see us. There was nothing for it - we were going to have to get some larger ladders. Why oh why did we not think to pack our ladders. They would've been ideal. Perfect even. Except they were 12,000 miles away. Not so good. No, instead, when we return from work this evening we were going to have to traipse across town to buy some ladders. Smashing! That "Bip!" was "Bip!" the "Bip!" only "Bip!" thing "Bip!" for "Bip!" it.
It took a good three or four hours to get the bipping noise out of my head. It seemed like it was welded into my psyche. But eventually, by the time I was tucking into my lunch, everything was quiet. Mmmmmm.
Anticipating a trip to Mitre 10 (NZ's B&Q) I arrived home earlier than usual and slowly opened the front door. I wasn't relishing that bloody noise drilling its way back into my psyche. But all was quiet. Peaceful even. "Thank God for that", I thought to myself. The alarm was still where we left it; it's innards exposed for all to see but it was clearly dead. An ex-smoke alarm.
So cup of tea in hand, I made my way to the living room for some unexpected rest.....
"Bip!"
"Bip!"
"Bip!"
"I HATE YOU, YOUSTUPIDANNOYINGBADTARDSOFATHING!!!!"
I wasn't in the least bit happy. I was mocking me. Ladders it was then. Mitre 10 here we come......
Who knew there was so much choice when it came to climbing apparatus? I thought ladders came in two types; step and normal. There were small steps, ladders that extend, ladders that make a deck chair look like a simple piece of kit, ladders that can be bent into all manner of shapes and angles and ladders that promise to make your life complete. Time and patience was running out.
So, to cut a long story short, we are now proud owners of a Laddermaster W244-B. And what a wonderful piece of kit it is - mind at $244 it ought to be - very sturdy, safe and above all just perfect for bringing a ceiling mounted smoke alarm to within reach so we could smash it to smithereens with bare, anger fuelled hands, stamp on the remains and flush them down the loo. Except we didn't. No, instead we calmly replaced the battery, shut the cover, dismantled the ladders and had a bit of a tidy up. Safety first after all.
And besides, I wouldn't give the damn thing the satisfaction of watching us burn to death, half wondering if that wasn't its evil plan all along.
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